


you know what you're here for

by starboykeith



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Barebacking, Bottom Keith (Voltron), Breathplay, Communication, Creampie, Face-Sitting, First Meetings, First Time, Friends With Benefits, Frottage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mentions of Other Voltron Paladins, Mild Angst, Orgasm Delay, Pining, Pining Keith (Voltron), Praise Kink, Rimming, Rough Sex, Spanking, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-04 10:05:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12166743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starboykeith/pseuds/starboykeith
Summary: Keith never thought his year-long crush on Takashi Shirogane would end in friends with benefits, but he'll take Shiro any way he can have him.It's not the fairytale beginning Keith had imagined for them, but maybe there's a slim chance for a happy ending.





	you know what you're here for

**Author's Note:**

> title from high for this by ellie goulding

Keith still remembers the first time he saw Takashi Shirogane.

He was a freshman, still tottering around their college on shaking legs because everything was _big_ and _new_ and, admittedly, a little scary. Shiro definitely doesn’t remember the first time they’d interacted – Shiro had held open the classroom door for him, and Keith had nearly tripped over his own feet blushing – but Keith can’t seem to _stop_ remembering it. Shiro had been helping out in Keith’s astrophysics class; as a senior, and one of the best-known names and faces on campus, every professor seemed to want to give him work experience, so it wasn’t the last time Keith got a free hour to fall in love.

Admittedly, Shiro’s intelligence wasn’t the first thing Keith noticed about him.

But that changed quickly when Shiro started talking, because his enthusiasm was tangible in every sentence, his love for space and science so clear that Keith hung on his every word. Shiro’s smart, destined for great things – that’s what everyone says, but Keith really believes it.

It was just his luck that the first time he mentioned Shiro to Pidge – his new friend, and his only friend at the time – she’d brightened up and exclaimed, “Shiro’s my brother’s best friend!”

Six degrees of separation, and all that.

Since then – in the whole _year_ since then – Pidge has continually found excuses to talk to Matt when he’s with Shiro, and drag Keith along with her. Keith had nearly died the first time Shiro introduced himself – “Takashi Shirogane, but my friends call me Shiro,” with a smile that could have melted the coldest of hearts, and Keith had hardly been able to stumble over his own introduction.

But Keith’s a junior now; he likes to think he’s more mature and put-together, and he also likes to think he’s gotten over his stupid freshman crush on Shiro, especially since Shiro graduated and then went on an exchange trip to kick off post-grad, meaning Keith hasn’t seen him for almost five months.

That all falls apart the second Pidge announces, “Matt’s having a ‘welcome back’ party for Shiro, and you’re coming with me.”

“What?” Keith exclaims – does not _shriek_ , because that would be undignified. “I don’t even know Matt that well. Or Shiro,” he forces himself to add.

Pidge gives him a knowing look that makes Keith regret the day he ever mentioned thinking Shiro’s handsome (and smart, and kind, and perfect), and claps her hands together.

“I asked Matt specially if I could bring you,” she says, and Keith groans.

“So you basically _told_ him.”

That earns him a pitying expression. “Depends if you behave.”

Keith flushes, resenting the implication. He _isn’t_ a lightweight. It was Pidge’s fault for plying him with shots that one time.

“You’ll come, then?” Pidge says hopefully. “Come on, I didn’t go to this trouble for nothing. Who do you think convinced Matt that Shiro needs a welcome party?”

“You’re an angel.”

 

* * *

 

Keith hates Pidge.

He’s been agonising over what to wear to this stupid party for _days_ , despite knowing he’ll end up in jeans and his red jacket, as usual.

 _Please wear a shirt with a collar_ , Pidge texts him on the morning, and Keith scowls and picks a black button-up, as per his _orders_ , and stubbornly shrugs his jacket over it anyway.

Pidge is helping Matt set up in his apartment, so Keith heads over half an hour before people will start arriving, mostly to psych himself up and for Pidge to attempt encouragement, even though they both know Keith will inevitably stutter and blush and act like the babyish junior Shiro probably expects him to be.

Keith takes a deep breath and knocks, and Pidge answers the door immediately, looking harried. She’s wearing a green plaid shirt and white jeans, and Keith hopes to God he doesn’t throw up on her like last time.

Not that he plans to drink a lot. Keith would die if he embarrassed himself in front of Shiro.

“You look nice,” he tells her, and she rolls her eyes.

“Tell it to loverboy.”

Keith cranes his neck to look into the apartment, but Shiro isn’t here yet, and Pidge laughs at him.

When Shiro does walk in, half an hour later and perfectly on time, Keith nearly swallows his tongue.

True, he’s only in a white button-up and black jeans, but they really accentuate all the _best_ parts of him, shoulders and pecs and waist and thighs and –

“Shut your mouth,” Pidge says, and Keith glares at her.

He’s only had one drink – ostensibly to calm his nerves, but Keith’s heart is thudding hard in his chest just watching Shiro move around the room, greeting people and giving hugs Keith is extremely jealous of.

But as Shiro actually approaches, Keith feels suddenly nervous, and he stands up – to do what, he doesn’t know; hide, run away? – but Pidge yanks him back down, smoothing her expression just in time to say hello to Shiro and accept his hug.

Keith swallows, fidgeting with his hands, but then Shiro turns to him with a beaming, “Hi, Keith,” and then strong arms are tight around Keith’s shoulders and Keith barely recovers in time to weakly pat Shiro on the back.

Pidge’s expression over Shiro’s shoulder is unbearably smug, and it becomes even moreso when he chooses the seat next to Keith on the sofa, throwing his arm over the back of it and terrifyingly close to being around Keith.

“Pidge!” Matt yells, and Keith is filled with fear. “Come help me with – “

There’s a loud crash, and Pidge jumps up, rolling her eyes. “I’ll be back,” she says sweetly, smiles at Shiro, winks at Keith, and then vanishes, leaving Keith trembling with the knowledge that Shiro’s arm is inches away from being around him.

It’s agonising for about a minute, and then Keith takes an impressive swig of his drink and asks, “Shouldn’t you be mingling?” earning a grin from Shiro.

“Don’t be fooled,” he says wryly. “You know most people are here for the free alcohol.”

“Lots of people like you,” Keith blurts out, and immediately regrets it, even as Shiro gives him a smile that warms him from head to toe.

“Thanks, Keith,” he says genuinely.

Keith feels like his heart is going to burst out of his chest at any moment, and he’s glad when Pidge and Matt return and Matt prompts Shiro with questions about his exchange trip – mostly for Keith and Pidge’s benefit, as he and Shiro had kept in close contact throughout – and Keith takes the opportunity to grab another drink even as Pidge scowls at him.

“Ah, young people,” Shiro muses. “I don’t think we can keep up with the underclassmen’s drinking anymore, can we, Matt?”

“Speak for yourself, old man,” Matt says, and Shiro playfully lunges for him. Keith’s first thought is _holy shit, he’s adorable_ , and then their eyes meet and Keith blushes and buries his face in his drink. Again.

He’s so _nervous_ , having Shiro right in front of him and smiling and laughing and messing around like a dork, and Keith keeps drinking until Pidge gets sick of him and goes to find Allura, and Matt disappears somewhere to play the good host.

Shiro’s eyes slide over him in a way that makes Keith feel hot all over, because Shiro is _definitely_ checking him out, and Keith doesn’t know what to do with this information.

“Wanna do shots?” Shiro asks, and _yeah_ , Keith thinks, _that sounds like an amazing idea._

“You think you can outdrink me?” Keith challenges – and Shiro definitely can, but Keith won’t go down without a fight, no matter how disadvantaged he is already, having been drinking away his anxiety for a good while before this.

“I could drink you under the table,” Shiro says roughly, gaze heated, and Keith thinks he’s one step away from passing out, blood rushing south faster than he can blink.

They do shots. Shiro’s a powerhouse. Keith’s in love.

“Don’t you think you should slow up a little?” Pidge asks, glancing pointedly at the – admittedly numerous – variety of glasses and bottles scattering the table, and then the more incriminating evidence of their shot glasses and Shiro’s dopey grin.

“Hey,” Keith says, offended. “This isn’t my first rodeo.”

“Jesus Christ,” Pidge mutters. “I’m cutting you off.”

Keith stares sadly after her as she stomps away, and Shiro pats his shoulder.

“Sorry, buddy,” he says, amused – drunk, but probably not struggling to make out faces the way Keith is. “ _I_ should’ve cut you off.”

“You don’t have to be responsible all the time,” Keith says, but it comes out more suggestively than he’d intended.

“Yeah,” Shiro says thoughtfully.

Pidge throws Keith’s shoes into his lap, and Shiro winces in sympathy.

“She’s not really annoyed with me,” Keith tells him, and he didn’t think he was _too_ off his head but his shoelaces suddenly seem like a mathematical problem worthy of Stephen Hawking. “She just doesn’t want me to throw up on her.” Shiro reaches over after a moment and does Keith’s laces up for him, and Keith has enough presence of mind to be embarrassed, trying to bat Shiro’s fingers away.

“We should, should, um,” he slurs suddenly, words spilling without conscious thought, “go out for a coffee sometime.”

Shiro smiles at him, but in the next moment Pidge grabs Keith and pulls him up with impressive strength, and Keith finds himself hugging Shiro goodbye, spreading his palms over Shiro’s shoulder blades and admiring the power concealed there. He vaguely hears Shiro asking Pidge if she’ll get him home safe, and means to be offended that Shiro thinks he needs babying, but his traitorous heart leaps at the thought of Shiro caring about him.

“I didn’t mean to get this drunk,” Keith tells Pidge mournfully on the way home. “He makes me so nervous, Pidge.”

“That’s a good sign,” Pidge says under her breath.

“I just wanted to be cool.” Keith’s bottom lip trembles, and Pidge sighs and gives him a reluctant, one-armed hug, body angled away from him as so not to be in the possible splash-zone. “I’m not going to be sick,” Keith protests, and Pidge rolls her eyes and hugs him properly, and Keith doesn’t even care that it’s a pity hug because he _needs_ one, right now. Shiro’s never going to speak to him again, and Keith wasted their one evening being a pathetic mess.

 

* * *

 

“Keith!”

That can’t be Shiro’s voice.

“Hey, Keith!”

That’s definitely Shiro’s voice.

Keith turns, and Shiro’s jogging towards him. Keith takes a moment to admire the view, and then he walks forward to meet him, giving Shiro a tremulous smile that hopefully doesn’t belie his feelings of _oh my God I can’t believe you want to talk to me again after that night._

“Hey, Shiro,” he says, shifting his bag nervously on his shoulder. “What’s up?”

“Wondered if you were free for that coffee,” Shiro says without preamble, and Keith blushes because Shiro _remembers_. 

“Sure,” Keith says, attempting to sound nonchalant and hoping to God his voice doesn’t break like Pidge teases him about.

It was nice, he thinks after. They had coffee, and talked, and laughed, and Keith's crush had increased approximately a hundred times in size. 

None of that really explains why they're stumbling into Shiro's room and Shiro's shoving him up against the wall, but it was a start. 

“Fuck,” Keith pants as Shiro shoves a thigh between his legs, kissing him so insistently Keith thinks he'll bruise. “ _Ah_ ,” he cries, because Shiro doesn't waste time, moves so Keith helplessly grinds down against his thigh, and as all his blood rushes south Keith has a vague thought that this isn't what he expected after a quaint coffee date. 

He rolls his hips, grinding frantically against Shiro's thigh, and Shiro's kissing his neck, fingers pulling his collar down to suck a mark below his neckline. 

Keith wants to tell him to hurry up, wants him _now_ , but then Shiro's spinning them around and pushing Keith down on his bed. He's left bereft for a moment, legs fallen open and chest heaving as he watches Shiro yank his shirt over his head, but then clever fingers are undoing Keith's jeans and wriggling him out of them, skilled and quick and _genius_ , and Keith hardly manages to pull his shirt over his head before Shiro's on him again. 

“Wanted this,” Shiro murmurs next to Keith's ear, and Keith moans loudly as Shiro slots a thigh between his legs, grinding down until they both groan. “Wanted to get you out of those fucking jeans – “

“Shiro,” Keith gasps, and he's flushed all over, one hand on Shiro's back and running the other down his chest. He doesn't have the confidence to squeeze Shiro's muscles like he's wanted to since he saw Shiro with his shirt off in freshman year, but Shiro moans helplessly when Keith thumbs at his nipple and Keith commits the sound to memory. 

Shiro pulls back, yanks his boxers down enough to free his cock, and Keith goes hot all over at the sight of it, huge and thick and _I want it inside me_ , Keith thinks blindly, _I want, I want_ –

He gasps when Shiro tugs his boxers out of the way too, pressing their bodies together again but frantically rolling his hips and Keith cries out when their cocks slide together, so hot and _good_ his nails dig grooves into Shiro's back. 

They don't last long after that, still half-dressed and fumbling, kissing hard and clumsy, missing each other's lips and mouthing wet trails over skin, and Keith's hot with embarrassment when he comes just from the insistent rut of Shiro's hips, Shiro's cock thick and hard against him, legs spread obscenely wide and letting Shiro take anything he wants. 

Shiro's face is a vision when he comes, the noise he makes one Keith wants to hear every day for the rest of his life, and they lie together panting, sweaty and clutching at each other until Shiro rolls off him. Keith misses the heavy weight of him pinning him down. 

“We should do this again,” he says vaguely, staring at the ceiling, and Shiro laughs, warm and dark. 

Shiro kisses him long and slow and sweet at the door, and though hope rises in Keith's chest he's quick to squash it, because this was just a fuck. If he meant anything to Shiro at all, Shiro would have kissed him like this at the coffee shop and wished him a safe walk home. Instead –

Keith tries not to think about it. 

 

* * *

 

He can't let it happen again. He should – Keith flushes at his own pathetic fantasies – ask Shiro to dinner, or something, make his intentions clear, and if Shiro doesn't want him like that, so be it. 

This is an easy resolution to make until Keith finds himself once again caught in Shiro's orbit, tugging Shiro into his own room this time, and they get off together and Keith comes when Shiro whispers, hot against his neck, “I'm going to fuck you till you scream.”

They hang out a few times as friends, too: Shiro comes to Keith in the library to tease him good-naturedly about working so hard; he and Pidge run into Shiro and Matt and end up eating lunch together. Keith can _feel_ himself being embarrassing – making doe eyes at Shiro, laughing too loud and too easily, smiling, “Like a deranged clown,” Pidge describes – but he can't stop, too overwhelmed at being in the presence of someone he's mooned over for so long. Even though he knows what Shiro looks like when he comes, knows exactly how Shiro likes his dick sucked, Shiro can still make him blush with just a smile. 

Days later, Keith trembles when Shiro texts him, _I'm home alone_ , knowing instantly what he means, what he _wants_ , and it's his first time but it doesn't matter because it's Shiro and it's everything Keith ever wanted. 

Shiro's so gentle, so careful; he fingers Keith open until he's writhing and comes like that, just on Shiro's fingers, and Shiro's eyes are dark and he tells Keith, “Good boy,” and when he finally, finally presses inside, Keith can't breathe. 

“You feel so good,” Shiro breathes against his neck – they're face to face, chest to chest, and it feels so intimate Keith could cry – and then he starts moving, spilling a broken cry from Keith's lips that Shiro kisses away. 

Shiro's so big, so thick inside him, and Keith knows he's going to ache, but he wants it, wants the reminder of Shiro stretching him open. 

Keith's wrists are in Shiro's hand, pinned high above his head, and Keith arches in complete surrender, moaning helplessly as Shiro strokes the length of his neck and chest, hips picking up speed until Keith's squirming against his grip, cries knocked out of him with every thrust and loud over the obscene noise of the headboard banging against the wall.

“Gorgeous,” Shiro whispers when Keith comes, hard and untouched, all over his own stomach. 

After, they're quiet. Keith watches Shiro dispose of the condom and wonders how long is too long to stay, after what they just did. 

Shiro smiles at Keith, and with that he knows Shiro doesn't know it was his first. 

But there’s no opportunity to leave: Shiro offers him use of the shower and Keith gladly accepts, unable to help feeling like he’s also washing away his shame, but then somehow they end up back in bed together, _cuddling_.

Shiro cuddles up close even though Keith’s turned his back, fitting their bodies together and slinging an arm and a leg over Keith, one hand over his heart and the other fumbling the duvet over them.

“This is okay, right?” Shiro murmurs, pressing his lips to the nape of Keith’s neck, and Keith nods, absurdly thankful that Shiro can’t see the way his face is starting to crumple.

 

* * *

 

Keith hadn't told anyone, and he knew – _thought_ Shiro wasn't the type to kiss and tell – but somehow Pidge knows, and sticks her bony elbow into Keith's side when he's walking to lunch. 

“What the hell,” is all she says. 

“What?”

“You're sleeping with Shiro!” Her voice goes high-pitched with her enthusiasm, and Keith winces, glancing at the surrounding students. 

“Keep your voice down,” he says, and something in his tone must give him away. 

“Keith.” Pidge hesitates, her excitement visibly waning. “Are you – “

“We're not dating,” Keith says, and saying it out loud hurts far more than just the thought of how Shiro's toying with him. Pidge’s face falls, and Keith knows she’d assumed that he and Shiro were dating _properly_ : going on dates, and cuddling, and spending nights together, and – well, all the things they already do, but under the damning label of _boyfriend_. “How do you know, anyway?”

“Matt knows,” Pidge says, and hurries to explain, “He guessed. I thought I'd be able to guess, too, but I guess you don't tell me things about Takashi Shirogane, the muscled light of your life, anymore.”

Keith sighs, because he deserved that. “I don't know,” he admits, and Pidge drags him to sit down. “It's embarrassing.”

“You wanted to date him,” Pidge observes wisely, and Keith glares at her. “That sucks.”

They sit in silence, and then Pidge says, “You should break it off.”

“No!” spills from Keith, loud and instinctive, and Pidge gives him an extremely judgemental look. It's tinged with sympathy that somehow hurts more than the knowledge that Pidge is disappointed. 

“You were all but writing 'Mr Keith Shirogane' in your notebooks. You can't tell me you're happy.”

So it goes. 

Keith can’t stop himself.

He learns exactly what Shiro’s like in bed – how he likes to _dominate_ , hold Keith down, tease him until Keith’s loud and begging for it; likes the way Keith looks covered in his come; likes his hand on the base of Keith’s throat and Keith’s breath coming quick and fast as he struggles to breathe through the pressure – but he also learns things like how Shiro's a massive nerd, how he reads science books for fun, how he makes stupid puns and proceeds to laugh at his own dad jokes. His room is filled with paraphernalia relating to outer space – the first time Keith slept round he teased Shiro about the plastic glow in the dark stars on his ceiling until he blushed – things like posters and models and even clothes that betray Shiro as an avid collector – an avid _dork_ , Keith tells him, and Shiro laughs and runs a hand through his hair self-consciously.

“I feel like your reasons are vastly different to mine,” Shiro says, laughing. “Go on, then. Why is Mars the superior planet?”

Keith takes a deep breath, unable to stop his smile even as he lets his dramatic pause drag on and on, until finally, “It’s red.”

“No!” Shiro groans immediately, putting his head in his hands. Keith takes the opportunity to steal some of his fries, and Shiro swats at him half-heartedly. “I saw that,” he admonishes.

“The _red_ planet,” Keith says, shrugging, secretly pleased that this annoys Shiro as much as he knew it would, “is clearly the best one. I mean, just look at that contour – “

“God, shut up,” Shiro says, laughing.

“Why do _you_ like it, then?” Keith asks, as if he doesn’t already know.

Shiro immediately gets that shine in his eyes he gets whenever he talks about space, and Keith smiles helplessly at him. “It’s the first one we’re going to visit!” he says enthusiastically. “There could have been life there, you know? And humans will land there, and just think of what we’re gonna discover – “

Keith rests his chin on his hands, and his expression is grossly fond – he can _feel_ it is, and yet he can’t stop – and it hardly seems to matter that it’s 10pm and they’re in McDonald's eating grease on top of more grease, because Keith feels so happy his chest could burst. It’s so easy to forget his grievances with their arrangement when Shiro smiles at him like this, and Keith feels on top of the world.

 

* * *

 

That was last night; a world away in terms of situation.

By the next evening, Keith's standing nervously in Shiro's bathroom, waiting for the shower to warm up, because Shiro wants to eat him out. 

The thought has him hard before he even gets in the shower, but Shiro told him not to touch himself, said he'd know if Keith did, and Keith shivers all over at having _orders_ and dutifully ignores his cock despite how good it feels to slip two fingers inside himself, making sure he's thoroughly clean, psyching himself up for this.

Shiro didn't give him any clothes, Keith realises when he gets out. Bastard. 

So he's only in a towel when he walks into Shiro's room on trembling legs – Shiro has a flatmate who's thankfully not home to see Keith walking half-naked down the hallway – and Shiro puts his phone down and smirks at the sight of him. 

Keith's nervous, but he still finds a smirk of his own, closing the door and dropping his towel, watching Shiro's gaze drop to where he's still painfully hard. 

“Oh, good boy,” Shiro breathes, and Keith's cock twitches at the praise. 

He wastes no time in straddling Shiro, rubbing himself against Shiro's still-clothed cock and leaning down to kiss him, fingers going to Shiro's nipple and pinching and grinning when Shiro hisses against his mouth. 

Keith stops grinning when Shiro's fingers trail down his back and slip between his cheeks, rubbing firmly over Keith's hole and making him groan, lowering until he can press their foreheads together. 

“So good for me,” Shiro says, and Keith swells with pride – he wants to be good, so good for Shiro. “You still want it?”

He's not teasing this time, not making Keith say it because he likes the way Keith stutters over dirty words; Shiro's really _asking_ , and Keith knows that if he said no to this, or even to everything, he'd get dressed and they'd go watch a movie and cuddle on the sofa. 

“Yes,” Keith says firmly. 

“Alright,” Shiro says, and he touches Keith's cheek, gentle and a complete contrast to the words, “I want you to sit on my face.”

“Fuck,” Keith breathes, because he'd been imagining being on his back with his legs in the air, or on all fours as Shiro spread him open, but never like _this_.

“Come up to my face, baby,” Shiro says softly, and Keith settles as best he can, knees either side of Shiro's head and trembling already at Shiro's breath between his legs. “Hold onto the headboard – that's it.” Keith's fingers curl into the metal, and he exhales heavily, hoping to dispel his nerves with it. “Just like that, kitten.”

Shiro's hands come to the back of Keith's thighs, grip firm and spreading him just a little wider, putting him in place, and then Keith feels the broad swipe of Shiro's tongue over his hole and cries out with it, hands tightening on the headboard. 

He thinks Shiro says something, but doesn't hear it because in the same moment Shiro starts on him properly, pressing his tongue _inside_ as deep as it can go, pointed and firm and narrowing Keith's pleasure to a pinpoint that has him closer to the edge than he'd like to admit. 

Keith can't help the noises spilling from him, moans quickly devolving into whines as Shiro licks at him, licks _into_ him, grip still tight on Keith's thighs. 

He hears Shiro when he speaks this time – “Move, baby” – encouraging Keith to rock his hips, fucking himself on Shiro's tongue, and Keith whimpers as Shiro's fingers find their way to his hole as well, pressing in alongside his tongue and providing more for Keith to thrust down on, to push inside him. 

“Shiro,” he tries, and it comes out in a whine. “Please, I'm so close,” he stutters, and Shiro makes a humming noise and presses deeper with tongue and fingers, tugging at Keith's rim and making him feel loose, open in a way that pools heat in his belly. 

Keith knows suddenly that Shiro isn't going to touch him – that he isn't allowed to touch himself, either – because he wants Keith to come riding his tongue, wants to eat him out until Keith's moving desperately, trembling and _coming_. 

It's the thought, the thought of coming untouched with Shiro's tongue inside him that spills him over into doing just that, coming over his stomach and adding to the mess of pre-come there, gasping and gripping the headboard so hard it hurts, eyes squeezed shut. 

Shiro doesn't stop, even when Keith starts getting sensitive; holds Keith in place even as Keith squirms and tries to move away from the sweet torture of Shiro's mouth, finally whimpering, “I can't,” and moaning as Shiro lets go of him, lets him move over until he can lay next to Shiro and pant desperately for breath. 

He can’t stop trembling, legs fallen wide open and back still arched, an arm thrown over his face to hide his blush and lax expression, but Shiro’s fingers climb over his hip and slide over his stomach, making Keith shiver and move so he can see Shiro, just in time to watch him gather Keith’s come onto his fingers and lick it off.

Shiro’s still hard, but he shakes his head when Keith reaches for him, wrapping a hand around his cock and stroking firmly, making Keith’s mouth water and making him wish he wasn’t too overwhelmed to climb on top of Shiro and ride him till he breaks.

“Come on me,” Keith blurts out, and has the pleasure of seeing Shiro’s eyes widen.

Keith takes the position he’d assumed he’d be in earlier – gripping his knees, holding his legs in the air, holding himself _open_ for Shiro – and Shiro kneels between his spread legs, jerking himself off quick and dirty and coming with a final moan of, “ _Keith_.”

There’s come on Keith’s stomach, Shiro’s and his own; over his softening cock and pale inner thighs; over his hole, loose and wet and no doubt obscene. Shiro’s gaze is fixed there, and after a hesitant glance at Keith, he runs his fingers over Keith’s hole, getting his fingers slick and, “Oh,” Keith gasps, because Shiro’s pushing his come _inside_ , rubbing the pads of his fingers so gently against Keith he can’t breathe with his sensitivity.

“You’re filthy,” Shiro says, half a tease and half in awe, and Keith shivers.

“Clean me up, then,” he says boldly, and Shiro’s gaze drops when he spreads his legs.

“As you wish,” Shiro says, and then Keith drops back to the pillow with a long moan as Shiro lowers his head.

 

* * *

 

As the months press on and Keith’s workload becomes more demanding, he sees Shiro a little less.

Neither of them think anything of it – they text, meet up when they can, have phone sex when they can’t – but Keith finds that he _misses_ Shiro, spends the day thinking about him, wondering when they can next see each other. He catches himself planning their next meetings, and catches himself arranging them like _dates_ : picking out what he’s going to wear, where they’re going to go, thinking about what news he has to tell Shiro.

And it makes him feel pathetic.

Shiro’s happy with their friendship as it is, of course; he calls and Keith comes running, whether it’s to watch a movie on Shiro’s couch or to stumble into one of their bedrooms. Keith was happy with it, too – he _was_ , no matter what Pidge says – but as he finds himself leaning more and more towards doing _couple_ things, and finds Shiro putting up with it, or maybe even _liking_ it, Keith grows more and more bitter, because they’re _not_ a couple.

He’s a plaything, Keith realises, staring at the back of Shiro’s head at 2am, something for Shiro to pick up and use when he gets bored. Keith comes running like a dog when Shiro calls for him, asks _how high?_ when Shiro tells him to jump, kneels at his feet and goes away obediently when Shiro doesn’t have time to entertain him.

Keith thinks about Pidge telling him he should break it off – wishes he _had_ had the courage to break it off, back when they were just fooling around and Keith’s crush would have suffered, but recovered, but now it’s too late, and Keith thinks it would break him to let Shiro go, to watch Shiro walk around with someone else on his arm, someone who actually _means_ something to him.

But Keith is selfish; wants to have Shiro any way he can, even if it’s just like this.

And he still comes running when Shiro texts him, but he starts to resent it; Shiro sucks marks into his neck and Keith thinks _you have no right_ ; Shiro makes him feel better than anyone else ever has but Keith wants him all the time; Shiro kisses and touches him but Keith wants to be _loved_. 

Shiro’s tense today, something clearly eating at him, but instead of putting out the fire he stokes it higher, tearing at Keith’s clothes, kissing him hard and grabbing roughly at his ass, making Keith moan even before Shiro presses him up against the wall.

But he doesn’t even have time to breathe before his chest hits the wall instead, Shiro flipping him over and pressing his chest to Keith’s back, grinding his cock hard against Keith’s ass.

“Give a guy some warning,” Keith says once he recovers, rolling his hips back into Shiro’s thrusts. Shiro bites at his neck, _almost_ a warning, and then his hands are on Keith’s and lifting until Keith’s palms are flat on the wall, spread far enough to give him balance as Shiro steps back and tugs Keith until he’s half-bent over.

“Keep your hands there,” Shiro says, and Keith shudders, spreading his legs wider. 

“Bad day?” he asks, and Shiro's laugh makes his knees go weak. 

“You could say that,” he says, a little softer, and then his hand comes down on Keith's ass in a solid smack that tears a moan from Keith's throat. 

“ _Oh_ , fuck,” he chokes out. 

Shiro hums, pleased. “You like that, baby?”

Keith's never really thought about his opinion on spanking, but right now it's the best idea in the world. 

He means to give a coherent reply, but Shiro smacks him again and all Keith can manage is, “ _Mmm_ ,” arching his back and tilting his hips up, begging Shiro to touch. 

Shiro smacks him twice on the other side too and Keith imagines his ass going red with Shiro's handprints and moans helplessly, crying out when the unexpected fifth hit lands and Shiro gets a hand around his cock in the same moment. 

“Please,” Keith manages finally, but he doesn’t know what he’s asking for.

Shiro does.

“Stay,” he says, and some part of Keith resents being told to _stay_ like a dog, but it sends a shudder all the way up his spine, and he doesn’t turn around when Shiro stops touching him, listening to him walk away.

There’s the sound of a cap clicking shut and then footsteps moving closer, and Keith tenses, knowing Shiro’s standing behind him but unable to look, to see what Shiro’s going to do.

Then there’s fingers on his ass, spreading his cheeks further and thumbing over his rim, and Keith takes a deep breath, resting his forehead on the wall.

“What a pretty hole,” Shiro comments, and Keith goes hot all over, wanting to hide from Shiro’s gaze, but just then Shiro starts pressing his first finger inside, slow enough for Keith to accommodate but just a little too fast, forcing Keith to breathe deeply to relax.

It’s the same with the second and third fingers, stinging as Shiro works them in too soon and Keith groans, toes curling into the carpet. It’s _good_ , it’s so good, but he’s going to hurt tomorrow, and he wants to feel every inch of it.

It burns as Shiro presses his cock inside, one hand between Keith’s shoulder blades pressing them forward and the other on Keith’s hip, keeping him bent over and angled just right. Keith’s panting, overwhelmed already from being manhandled wherever Shiro wants him, and he bites his lip hard as Shiro bottoms out, scowling when Shiro strokes his hair.

“Do it,” he bites out, hating the sudden tenderness. “Fuck me.”

He wants it hard, wants it fast, wants it to _hurt_ , just a little, because it’s all Shiro wants from him, after all; it’s all Keith’s good for.

“Don’t be greedy,” Shiro murmurs, but his grip tightens and he starts moving, slowly at first but quickly becoming short snaps of his hips, gaining in speed and moving deeper, and Keith’s face crumples as Shiro hits his prostate, a whimper leaving his lips no matter how hard he tries not to.

It gets harder and harder to keep quiet, and Keith lets go eventually, letting moans and cries and whines of _ah, ah_ spill from him as Shiro sets a ruthless pace and Keith can’t breathe, breath torn from his lungs and fingers scrabbling desperately for purchase.

“Clench,” Shiro orders, and Keith gasps out a _no_ , shuddering and smirking when Shiro growls and fucks him harder.

He screams when Shiro smacks him, totally unprepared for the hit and panting hard as Shiro laughs, warm and dark, against his ear, hand rubbing and pulling at the sore flesh of Keith’s ass.

“Good boy,” he praises, and Keith realises the shock of it had made him clench up, tightening into a perfect little tight hole for Shiro to fuck into, and he snarls and shoves his hips back, forcing Shiro to adjust to his rhythm and rocking their hips together hard and fast and Keith’s so, so close –

“I don’t think so,” Shiro murmurs, hand finding the base of Keith’s cock and _squeezing_ and Keith wails as his orgasm slips away from him, shoulders hunching as he curls into himself, but Shiro grabs his hips and keeps him there, pliant and trapped with his nails scratching at the wall.

“No,” Keith cries, and he feels the sudden hotness of tears in his eyes, “please, please, Shiro – “

“Hold on for me, baby,” Shiro says, so soft despite the denial, and he cries out hoarsely when he comes, hips stuttering and fucking into Keith a final time before he stills, panting, and then his fingers wrap around Keith’s cock and he hisses, “ _Come_ ,” and Keith comes with a scream, shoving backwards to feel as much of Shiro inside him as possible.

He feels stupid with orgasm, legs trembling and swaying on his feet, and Shiro gets an arm around his waist, steadying Keith and helping him to the bed, where they collapse with a sigh. Keith rolls quickly onto his back, feeling overheated pressed to the sheets, but he winces with how sore his ass is, inside and out. Imagining the marks there brings a flush to his face.

“That was,” Shiro says breathlessly, burying his face in Keith’s neck and panting, “that was – God, Keith.”

“Hmm,” Keith hums, but he’s starting to run cold with growing shame, humiliation, _anger_ ; coming over him so suddenly even while his head’s still fuzzy.

“Keith?” Shiro’s concerned, lifting his head and studying Keith’s face, and Keith hopes he recoils from what he sees. “Was it – was it too rough?”

Keith almost laughs. “No,” he says truthfully.

But Shiro keeps asking, and pressing, and pressing, because he can _see_ something’s wrong and seems to be acting like he cares, and Keith goes suddenly hot with anger.

“Oh, it was fine,” he says, yanking himself out of Shiro’s embrace, going to retrieve his clothes from the floor. Shiro’s gaze slides guiltily to Keith’s face from checking him out despite his confusion at Keith's change, and Keith tugs his clothes on hurriedly, hiding his body from Shiro. “You know,” he says, intending to be hard and biting, but ending up sounding a little pathetic, “you can treat your toys any way you like, and they won’t love you any less.”

Shiro’s eyes widen, and Keith feels smug at producing this reaction until he realises what he said.

_Fuck, I have to get out of here._

“Keith, I – “

“We’re not doing this right now,” Keith snaps. Not right now, with Shiro’s handprints bruising his ass, with Shiro’s come dripping out of his hole, with Keith running hot and cold with shame and anger.

“When, Keith?” Shiro’s flushed, bright-eyed and angry, sheets pooling around his waist. He doesn’t make a move to get up, to stop Keith, to do anything. “When are we going to do this?”

Keith trembles for a moment, unsure whether he’s going to scream or burst into tears, but he manages to turn away from Shiro’s cold gaze and storm from the apartment.

 

* * *

 

“I fucked up,” Keith tells Pidge over the phone. He’s on speaker, eating ice cream with one hand and flipping through Netflix with the other. “So bad, Pidge.”

“Are you drunk?” Pidge asks flatly, and Keith recoils, insulted.

“No!”

“Oh,” Pidge says, unmoved. “What did you do, Keith?”

Keith hesitates for a long moment. He did call Pidge to vent, true, but it’s so _embarrassing_ ; he can’t believe he let it slip like that, can’t believe he let his emotions get the better of him and destroy any semblance of his and Shiro’s friendship.

“The word ‘love’ was mentioned.”

Pidge groans and doesn’t say anything. Keith sniffs.

“Oh, Keith,” Pidge says finally, sadness clear in her tone.

“I ruined everything.” Keith’s at least proud that he can say that without crying, or his voice shaking. It’s been a day before he got the courage to tell Pidge at all.

“You haven’t ruined _everything_ ,” Pidge says steadily. “Did you talk about it?”

Keith’s silence seems to speak for itself.

“Keith.” Pidge takes a deep breath. “You need to talk to him.”

“I know,” Keith admits quietly. He wants dearly to hide in his room for days, to shut everyone out and obsessively go over everything that happened and everything he did wrong, but he knows the right thing to do is talk.

Shiro wants to talk. Shiro wouldn’t stop calling him yesterday. Shiro finally gave up calling and sent a text saying _Please call me back._

Keith doesn’t really know why he called Pidge; he knew he’d get this reaction, knew Pidge would be the sensible conscience Keith seems to lack.

She’s quiet now, waiting, and Keith feels a surge of guilt both for her and Shiro and blurts out, “I’m going to call him.”

Pidge doesn’t manage to hide her long-suffering sigh. “Good plan.”

 

* * *

 

It’s agonising, sitting across from Shiro in the quiet corner of the coffee shop and spilling – _everything_. How Keith had been watching for Shiro around campus since freshman year; his lame excitement when Pidge had invited him to the party; how bitter he’d felt upon realising – well. He feels numb and raw all at once.

Shiro looks so _guilty_.

“But, you know,” Keith finishes, face burning red and fingers trembling on his mug, “friends with benefits never seems to work out anyway.”

He stares hard at the table. Shiro wanted him to talk, and he has, and now all Keith wants is to go home to his laptop and his ice cream.

So the last thing Keith expects is warm fingers wrapping around his own, coaxing them from his death grip on the mug and holding his hand over the table like some kind of teenager on their first date.

“Shiro,” Keith starts heavily, not wanting his pity, but Shiro squeezes his fingers.

“I’m sorry,” he says first, and huffs a laugh. Keith’s almost offended, but Shiro quickly continues, “I wanted it to work out. I thought it would be okay if I could just be with you like this.”

It takes Keith a second to realise what Shiro is saying, and then he takes a quick breath, tension singing through him like lightning. “What do you mean?”

Shiro stammers for a moment, but only for a moment. He’d once told Keith his biggest fear was regret, and it’s clear in his straight posture, the determination in his eyes, that regret is something he wants to avoid when he hesitantly says, “I wanted – want to be with you too.”

It’s brave, Keith thinks, brave to say that, brave to act like he wants a second chance, brave to do this when Keith feels bare and raw and stinging and has half a mind to snatch his hand back and run.

“Okay,” he says, very slowly. His leg is bouncing under the table, and it takes all of his concentration to meet Shiro’s eyes steadily.

“Okay,” Shiro says, smiling hesitantly, and as he leans forward for a kiss Keith thinks that it was too easy, that there should have been more shouting, that Shiro should have felt betrayed by Keith’s weakness, but their lips meet and the world doesn’t come crashing down.

Keith leans forward, allows himself one breath of relief, and closes his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> please leave a comment if you enjoyed, and you can find me on twitter at twitter.com/starboysheith and tumblr at starboykeith.tumblr.com !


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